Love finds you
A smile is infectious.
If genuine, it can change someone's day, shift a perspective. And it costs nothing. You can freely give it, and when you do, care and kindness spreads from you to another, with opportunity to continue.
Something new is created. Smile begets smile, care begets care.
I've been thinking about the story of Zacchaeus this week, and how that fits into the picture we have of God, and where we fit into the story of salvation.
Zacchaeus was, by all accounts, someone not doing kindness in society. He'd cheated people, was part of a despised subgroup group of people, and had built up unjust wealth.
He was living a life of guilt, wracked by all he'd done, and found no way to pull himself out, to lift himself up and become the better person his conscience demanded.
Despite all attempts, he'd failed and been rejected by others.
But then he had an encounter with Jesus. Jesus visited Jericho, on his way through. He wasn't planning to stay, didn't have a place to spend the night.
Zacchaeus heard of Jesus and wanted to get a better look. The Bible records that he was short, and couldn't see over the crowd. So he climbed a tree and waited, just for a look. All he wanted to do was see. He was drawn to Jesus, heard stories of him, and had the faintest hope of answers to his struggles.
Jesus stopped underneath the tree and called to Zacchaeus. Jesus looked up and made the first move, welcoming the sinner.
Zacchaeus felt the draw up to that point. That's why he climbed the tree. He didn't reject the impression on his heart, but had no way of making the connection on his own. It was outside his ability. Physically speaking, he wasn't able to push through the crowd, and spiritually his heart yearned for something more, but he could never bridge the gap.
So Jesus stepped in, ignored the social norms of the day, spoke through the crowd, ignored the onlookers, and made a moment between him and one of his children.
The crowd wasn't happy.
They couldn't believe Jesus wanted to talk with a sinner, and worse still, planned to stay at his house—a change, by the way, from the early passage, where before Jesus planned to pass through Jericho. But in the encounter with Zacchaeus his plans changed. He shifted, adjusted, and focused on a lost child.
The people condemned Zacchaeus at that point, called out all that he'd done.
Was that the first time he'd heard those condemnations? Not at all. He lived with them, felt them, every moment a weight of the sins he'd done, the people he'd harmed. Those mutterings were not new, they were something he bore.
So what was different about this time?
Jesus.
Jesus had found him, had called to him, had welcomed him. And, in that instant, all the prior attempts of Zacchaeus to repent and change, to do better—none of that mattered, none of that could matter, none of that had been the least bit effective before. But when Jesus spoke, connected, drew to him, Zacchaeus felt his heart change, felt that pull.
And in that moment, he shifted.
He did a thing he could not do before. He saw a Redeemer welcoming him, showing him that he was loved, and offering to stay with him. Nothing else mattered. Not the anger of the crowd, not his past, just him and Jesus.
Now, does that mean he could just keep living as he was? Actually, that's impossible once you've had such an encounter. By drawing to Jesus, accepting his welcome, we can't help but change. God changes us, the only action we can take is to reject that and pull away. We can accept and allow him to keep working on us.
And in that moment, a thing that Zacchaeus couldn't do before by his own will became a mere trifle.
When I was younger I'd always hear this story with a little bit of concern. I'd wonder what it'd look like if Zacchaeus lost too much money, went hungry, was poor.
He didn't see it that way.
He'd just found the most beautiful thing in the universe, had a connection with Jesus, and it changed him.
Yes, he'd seen his faults and sins before, he was well aware of them. But in that instant he saw himself in a new light, as a loved child of God. And it was nothing to give up his ill-gotten gold. It meant less than nothing to him.
What mattered was that connection, that love that found him. And it caused his heart to ache. He wanted to continue in that love and connection and the prior guilt that weighed him down—it was now a sin that was forgiven, and in feeling that forgiveness he could stand under the love of a Savior and repent, give back what was stolen, and make recompense.
Not to find salvation, not to earn his way to heaven, not to look better in the eyes of the people. No, it was because he'd found salvation, the Messiah of the universe was coming to his home that day, and it was everything to him.
Jesus, the Son of Man, came to seek and save the lost. He didn't come to save those who were whole (Luke 19).
The story of Zacchaeus inspires me, because it reminds me that Jesus welcomes us before the change occurs. He touches our hearts and impresses on us his love, then by receiving and accepting that love, we're changed, drawn toward him, and setting aside our own personal baggage becomes less than nothing.
Fixing our faults matters, making wrongs right is crucial. But that doesn't buy us the love of our Savior. We change as a result of being loved.
So how does salvation work? From my perspective, and according to Paul in Ephesians 2, salvation is a gift from Jesus. He saved us, and by faith we receive that gift.
Salvation works by accepting that Jesus lived and died for our sins, rose again, and forgives us and gives us new life. By accepting that we allow the Holy Spirit to change us.
In Mark 9 it talks about someone who struggles with unbelief. I love that story, because I'm a doubter, I'm unsure. And the Jesus I know welcomes questions. I have so many questions, and I'm thankful that Jesus finds us first, then his love changes us. We can't earn salvation by being good, or having the right answers, but we can accept it and see something beautiful start to happen.
"We love because he first loved us." — 1 John 4